Scrapbook
by KivaEmber
Summary: Collection of Re Born verse drabbles. Seventh Oneshot: Interlude - insight to what Gilbert's night terrors are about.
1. Late

**Title: **Scrapbook

**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Collection of Re_Born universe drabbles. 1st Oneshot: Late: Being stuck in the car, alone, is not what Gilbert had intended when he asked to attend the World Meeting with Bruder West.

**A/N: **I had nothing to do for three hours at school, so I jotted down a few oneshots in my notebook, and this one I typed out cause I sorta liked it.

Alright! Kid!Gilbert out of my system (no it isn't, but argh, he's so cute…), so now to finish those requests.

Enjoy!

**X.x.X**

"_You sank Atlantis nine times!? Where was I during all this?"_

"_I have a whole different life you know nothing about."_

_--- Wanda & Cosmo, Fairly Odd Parents_

**X.x.X**

**1st DRABBLE: LATE**

"There's some food here," Ludwig nodded to the yellow chicks patterned lunchbox on the passenger seat hurriedly, "And extra snacks for yourself so you shouldn't be hungry. And remember you _don't_ leave the car, unless you need to…to _go_, and then you go to the nice man by the door – you won't be able to miss him – and ask. Don't open the car door for anyone and don't wander off." He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. He was nearly late for the World Meeting. "Understand?"

Gilbert grumbled something incoherently, slouched in the backseat and fidgeting with a plush rabbit teddy. "But I wanna go in with you…" He whined suddenly, pouting at his older brother through the rear view mirror.

"Gilbert…" Ludwig sighed, pausing at a red light. "You can't _yet_. If they see you aga-" He swallowed the words, falling silent, before starting again. "Next meeting. You can come in with me next meeting."

"It'll be boring in the car." Gilbert continued, quieter though.

"Then you should've stayed at home." Ludwig snapped as he checked his watch again. Dammit.

Nearly inaudibly; "It's too big."

Ludwig heaved a sigh, squeezing the steering wheel and giving the suddenly solemn child Nation a soothing look. "You would've had the dogs to keep you company."

Gilbert immediately scrunched his nose. "I want _you_ for company, _Bruder_ West." He looked down at his rabbit teddy, bouncing it on his lap. "And Birdie." He added.

Ludwig smiled privately at that and drove the car forward when the traffic lights flashed green. Birdie was the rabbit teddy sitting on Gilbert's lap, and had been acquired when Ludwig had been buying things left and right that concerned child rearing. He'd grabbed it as an afterthought after he had bought out the local bookshop's stock of parenting manuals and Gilbert had attached himself to it upon first glance.

He found it adorable, though Ludwig wasn't going to share that little titbit with anyone.

"I promise, next World Meeting. They just need to be…prepared for your appearance." Or told that if they make even _one_ threatening step towards Gilbert they'd suddenly find themselves without limbs. "People still think that…" Ludwig paused and continued in a low tone. "People will think you're Prussia."

Gilbert looked up from Birdie. "The Nation before me? _Bruder_ West's old _Bruder_?"

"Yes…"

They finished the rest of the drive in heavy silence, pulling into the car park for the meeting place at seven minutes to nine.

Ludwig turned off the engine and twisted in his seat, holding out Gilbert's lunchbox. "Don't eat it now, it's for lunch." Gilbert took it with out a word, still looking sulky, and Ludwig sighed and reached out with a rough hand, smoothing it through soft white hair. "I'll be back by then, I promise. Then we'll do whatever you want."

Gilbert just scowled at him, swatting at his hand. "Whatever. Just go away to your stupid meeting."

The larger Nation frowned, but a glance at his watch cut off an uncharacteristic suggestion before he even voiced it. "I won't be long." He assured softly, patting his brother's head one more time before reluctantly sliding out of the car, locking it.

Gilbert peeked from the corner of his eye at the window, seeing his brother hover for a few brief moments before marching off into the official looking building. The child Nation blew out his cheeks in irritation and commented to Birdie; "As if I wanted to sit in a boring old meeting anyway."

Birdie didn't reply and Gilbert blew out the air in his cheeks as a raspberry. "Bleh! No, I'm not lonely, Birdie." He scowled at the back of the driver's seat, kicking it with small feet. "Stupid Birdie."

He was bored relatively quickly, and even talking to Birdie wasn't all that interesting this early in the morning. Gilbert grumbled to himself, wondering why he even bothered begging his brother (i.e. threats of throwing a full out tantrum if he didn't get his way) to go with him to this thing. But when he'd woken up, hearing _Bruder_ West potter about getting ready for this meeting thing, the thought of being _left alone_ in that house just, well, made him feel sick.

Not like this was any different…

"Boooooored~!" He complained, scowling at the roof of the car. "I'm booooooored~ Bored. Bored. Bored. Booooooored~!"

And it was only five past nine.

**X.x.X**

Gilbert was pretending to drive, even though his feet couldn't reach the pedals and he couldn't see over the steering wheel, he made engine noises, wildly twisting the steering wheel and shouting at imaginary pedestrians and cars to get out of the way.

"And bam! Oh no! A stupid Russian idiot in the road! Haha! His fault and nnneow~ sweeeerve~!"

Gilbert laughed and threw his hands up off the wheel before bashing them down on the car horn. It beeped shrilly, cutting through the pitter-patter rain that had started up a while ago. He laughed again.

"Stupid _Bruder_ West is missing out." He told Birdie sitting on his lap, pressing random buttons on the radio. It didn't turn on, but it was fun pressing all these buttons anyway. "In his stupid meeting and not here in this awesome car."

Gilbert tried to squint through the foggy windscreen, but the rain was too thick to see past the window wipers so he lost interest and looked at the wristwatch his big brother got him.

It had a chick on the watch's face, a fat yellow one, and he called it Awesome Chick.

"Awesome Chick says it's munch time!" Balancing Birdie in the crook of his elbow, Gilbert clambered over the emergency break and into the back seat, popping open his lunchbox. "So what did _Bruder_ West give me? Wurst! Wurst sandwich, yay~"

Oh! _Bruder_ West even snuck in a small bit of Prussian Dessert in there, though there'd probably be hardly any alcohol in it. Gilbert remembered asking for some beer before, and Bruder West had refused to give him even a drop. He was so mad that he pushed over the chair in the kitchen, but stupid _Bruder_ West just locked him up in his room. Stupid meathead.

Gilbert ate the pudding first, leaving a small portion for Birdie, and looked out of the window waiting for Ludwig to appear. He did say he'd be back by lunchtime after all.

But Ludwig didn't appear when Gilbert was eating lunch, or when he finished. By then, when Awesome Chick said that it was approaching two in the afternoon, Gilbert was starting to get a little antsy and agitated, obsessively looking out of the window despite not being able to see anything due to the rain and clutching Birdie tightly to his chest.

"I like being alone, Birdie." He mumbled to his teddy, curled up in the corner of the backseat and avidly watching the window. "And 'sides, _Bruder_ West is coming back."

Gilbert needed to pee, but looking out at the pouring rain and the fact that he'd have to run out there _alone_ immediately put him off, so he ignored the pressure with a pouty frown. Instead, to occupy his mind with something other than his protesting bladder, Gilbert thought up ways to get his own back on his unreliable brother in the most brattish manner possible.

"He's so getting a tantrum from me…"

**X.x.X**

Ludwig knew, before he'd even unlocked the cardoor, that he was in the shit. The meeting had dragged on longer than he had thought because Arthur and Alfred had started an Aliens Vs Magical Creatures debate that…well, it made no sense and Ludwig was happy that he was just out of there.

He opened the driver's side tentatively, climbing in and looking over to the backseat where Gilbert was giving him the most _furious_ look he had ever seen on a child's face. Ludwig nearly cringed.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert. The meeting-"

"You suck."

Ludwig twitched at the stiff interruption, but attempted again. "Gilbe-"

"You suck monkey balls."

Oh, he was in _that_ mood. Ludwig sighed and turned on the car engine, flicking the window wipers on to clear the windscreen. He looked over at his watch, ten past three, and felt guilt begin to gnaw angrily on his insides. Gilbert, a child Gilbert, had been stuck in the car for over six hours, and from how he could see Gilbert constantly shift his weight on the seat, in desperate need to empty his bladder.

"I'm sorry." Ludwig tried again.

"Hmph."

"We can go wherever you want…"

"Why? You're gonna leave me there too?"

Ludwig sighed. Nothing was going to placate him at this point. "Nevermind. Let's get you home." He began to drive out of the carpark, trying to ignore the burning feel of Gilbert glaring at the back of his head.

He screwed up.

**Fin.**


	2. Nightmare

**Title:** Nightmare  
**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany  
**Rating: **K+  
**Summary: **Sequel to Late. Ludwig panics and Gilbert screams.  
**A/N: **And because I'm feeling enraged at Trojan Invasion and raping of my system, I'm going to torture Kid!Gilbo some more, oi. I need to write some light hearted stuff where he's _happy_. GODDAMMIT BROKEN I BLAME YOU!

Enjoy

**X.x.X**

_"Thinking about what might have happened alerts you to the consequences of what did."_

--- Irwin, History Boys

**X.x.X**

**NIGHTMARE**

Ludwig sighed when he sank back into his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling with a tired frown as he went over his mental checklist for the day. He had locked up the back gate, the front door and windows, the dogs have food and water, all plugs switched off, Gilbert cleaned and sent up to bed, obligatory phone call to Feliciano to say goodbye as part of a deal to stop him coming round his house until he breaks the news of Gilbert's reappearance...Yes, everything was done.

He relaxed, closing his eyes in preparation for sleep. He still felt a niggling feeling to go check up on Gilbert (and that was the strangest thing because he used to remember a time where Gilbert used to check up on _him_ - even when he had long outgrown him), but he didn't want to completely smother the small Nation - one of the parental manuals said that constant hovering would make the child resent you, though another said that constant hovering makes a child loved; they were so contridicting that Ludwig based his decisions on what he knew about Gilbert, and Gilbert wouldn't like hovering.

For a while, there was silence of the nighttime, punctuated only by the droning of a passing car or the distant baying of a dog. It was calm, peaceful, and Ludwig sighed contentedly. Nighttime was fast becoming his favourite time of the day, as Gilbert truly was a handful to clean up after during the day, especially recently since Ludwig's screw up in what he dubbed 'The Late Fiasco'. It felt like every action the small Nation did was designed to antagonise Ludwig to the point where the German was ready to pull a Homer Simpson (he had watched The Simpsons on the urging of Alfred, and the scene of Homer strangling his child was what constantly flashed through his head whenever Gilbert threw pieces of his breakfast at him, or tipped over a priceless antique and tied the dogs' tails together).

Yes, nighttime was the only moment of pea-

"_...uuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"_

Ludwig shot upright, a sudden flush of ice cold fear prickling down his spine at that high pitched wail of distress. He recognised it as Gilbert immediately, and a surge of fiery emotion exploded out of his chest to burn in his veins as he lunged out of bed, practically sprinting down the hallway to his younger brother's room as that wail just carried on in a broken, despairing cry.

He nearly slammed into the door, he couldn't open it quick enough, and he paused, briefly, at the doorway to look around wildly for a threat, something endangering his Gilbert. He could spot nothing in the darkness, and as he hurried inside the room he flicked the switch, eyes focusing on Gilbert writhing and screaming in his bed. He felt a horrible sensation twist in his chest at the sight.

"Gilbert!" He carefully grasped the child Nation's small shoulders, ignoring the tightly clenched fists hitting his arms from Gilbert's flailing. "Gilbert, wake up! Wake up!"

But Gilbert refused to do that, he just kept screaming and twisting in Ludwig's grip, and Ludwig felt fear beginning to tear into his gut as he began shaking the child Nation frantically, unaware of his voice rising above the screams for Gilbert to snap out of it, to wake up, to stop screaming stop screaming goddammit _stop screaming_!

And when Ludwig felt ready to bolt and call someone up for help - Austria, or Hungary, or, or, Arthur, _someone_ - there was a disturbing choking noise and scarlet eyes flew open, wild and mad, pupils dilated, as Gilbert finally snapped to semi-awareness, struggling against Ludwig's hands and barking out broken German and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Get off- don't, please! Get the chains off! They're- no, don't wanna! Don't wanna disappear! _GET THEM AWAY!_"

"Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted, feeling the hot whips of panic as he struggled to stop Gilbert from flailing and harming himself by accident without harming Gilbert himself. "Gilbert! Calm down! You're dreaming! Snap out of it!"

That made Gilbert's screaming louder and his thrashing more violent, his small body twisting around in painful looking convulsions. Ludwig let out a cry of frustration, finally scooping the writhing child up and pressing him tightly to his chest in a restraining hug, face pressed into sweat damp hair as the screams were muffled against his shirt. "Please, Gilbert! Stop screaming, stop it...stop..."

Almost eerily, Gilbert did. His scream abruptly cut off, his small trembling body sagging in Ludwig's tight hold and sending the blond into a moment of intense horror at the stillness of his body. He could feel Gilbert's rapid heartbeat, however, through the fabric of his shirt, knowing that it probably matched his own throbbing heart's pace, but he still hurriedly lowered the still Gilbert onto the bed and checked his pulse - quick - and listened to shallow breaths, feeling like a lump of fear was lodged in his throat.

"Gilbert...?" He whispered softly, gently stroking the child Nation's sopping hair, barely noticing the weakness in his voice or how his fingers shook. "Gilbert, _Bruder_, you okay...?"

"H-Huh..." Scarlet eyes opened again with that hoarse whimper, confused and disorientated as they blinked up at his older brother's extremely concerned face leaning over him. "_Bruder_ West? W-What are you doing?"

Ludwig didn't answer, still carefully stroking sweat dampened hair as he scrutinised the perplexed red eyes for any signs of distress. "...Gilbert...?"

"...Yeah?" Gilbert's face scrunched up into a puzzled frown, obviously not understanding what was going on. "_Bruder_ West...you don't look good."

Ludwig didn't feel good, now that the adrenaline from his violent scare was was fading he felt sick and shaky, and was almost half expecting Gilbert to start screaming again any second. "You scared me." He swallowed, leaning back a little and releasing a shuddering breath. He suddenly pinned Gilbert with a stern look. "Don't do that again."

Gilbert stared. "Do what?"

"_That_." Ludwig snapped, his nerves frayed and worn. "Just..." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, frowning how they were still trembling slightly. "No more wurst for you before bed."

The child Nation just sat up slowly, still confused. "Why? I like wu-" He abruptly shut up, his body seizing up, and Ludwig had another burst of adrenaline and fear when Gilbert suddenly clutched at his arm, eyes intently trained on the farthest corner of the room. "_Bruder_ West, t-there's..."

Ludwig nearly cricked his neck looking behind him - but he saw nothing. "What? What's there?"

"Can't you _see_ it!" Gilbert shrieked, a hint of hysteria creeping into his voice. "Look! There! Look! It's _that_! That! They came back!"

Ludwig was tired now, and there was clearly nothing there. Irritation began to overtake his previous fear and concern. "There's _nothing_ there, Gilbert! You had a...a violent dream, so stop this right now!"

"There is! They're there! _Bruder_!"

"Gilbert, stop it!"

"_No_! _No, look!_"

"_Gilbert_-"

"_NO!_" Gilbert slapped at Ludwig's arm as hard as his child-like hands could, sobbing angrily as his agitation grew. "No! No! No! Shut up! Just _look_! They're gonna d-drag me b-back!" His voice rose. "That not place! The not place!"

Ludwig angrily stamped down the irritation and gently pulled Gilbert towards him, shouting wasn't going to solve a thing. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. They're there." He looked over at the corner again, the one where Gilbert was refusing to look at mumbling about 'Not Place', and smoothed down the child Nation's white hair. "Do you want to go to my room?" He ventured unsurely.

"Y-yeah, away..."

Ludwig carefully stood up, adjusting Gilbert against him and sighed, pressing his cheek against the damp hair. "You'll be safe in my room. No...'them'."

Gilbert just remained silent, and it was only when Ludwig reached his bedroom that he realised that he had fallen asleep. Ludwig didn't blame him, when he lowered the child Nation onto his bed and crawled in after him, he felt ready to pass out almost immediately from the exhaustion of panic and adrenaline. What a night...

He needed to read up in his parental manuals what to do when when your child has a night terror.

**Fin.**


	3. Sprog

**Title: **Scrapbook

**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany, England

**Rating: **T because of Arthur's foul mouth

**Summary: **Re_Born verse drabbles. 3rd Oneshot: Sprog: "So. What's with the sprog?" Arthur pops round to drag Ludwig out for a beer and instead comes face to face with Gilbert.

**A/N: **Well, I wanted to introduce Arthur early on XD; So I wrote this...plus I'm procrastinating from my revising...oh Lord, English exam tomorrow *Dies*

Enjoy!

**  
X.x.X**

**  
3rd ONE SHOT: SPROG**

Arthur grumbled as he walked up Ludwig's driveway, simultaneously lighting up his cigarette as his shoes crunched over the gravel. He hadn't seen that stupid German since the World Meeting a few weeks ago, and he was getting sick and tired of only having Alfred as company when he went out to the pubs. Bloody American prat ragged on the Rolling Stones last time, hah! The berk wouldn't know good music if it raped him up his ass.

Chewing angrily at the end of his cigarette, Arthur pounded irritably at Ludwig's front door, yelling out. "Oi! Damn Kraut, open the bloody door! I'm dragging you out to the pub!"

He only had to wait for a few moments before the door was cracked open. Arthur frowned though, when he couldn't see Ludwig's usual stern face glowering out of the doorway, and wondered if he knocked the door open by accident - until a rude, childish voice directed his attention downwards.

"Who're you?"

Arthur nearly swallowed his cigarette at the sight of familiar scarlet eyes and white hair. "What the bloody wankering hell?" He spluttered, coughing out a stream of smoke as he hastily saved his cigarette from tumbling out of his mouth. "Who're _you_!?"

The child scrunched his face up in disgust at the smell of smoke and turned around to shout into the house. "Bruder West! There's this weird guy at the door!" A pause. "And he smells!"

"What? I don't smell you fucking bra-"

Ludwig's familiar bulk appeared at the doorway behind the child, and the slight widening of blue eyes gave the German a strange deer-in-headlights expression. "Arthur!" He exclaimed, involuntarily it seemed by how he quickly cleared his throat and smoothed out his composure. "Ah, Gilbert..." He nudged the child - Gilbert - away from the door. "Go inside and...and watch the telly or something."

Gilbert scrunched up his face again, giving Arthur a squinty suspicious glare before doing as he was told, the plush bunny teddy that had been balanced in the crook of his elbow being drawn to his chest. Arthur watched him leave with neutral eyes.

Awkward silence befell them. Arthur sucked on his cigarette to steady himself.

"...So." The Englishman said flatly. "What's with the sprog?"

"He's East Germany." Ludwig answered, shifting from foot to foot defensively. He crossed his arms. "He was who I was going to introduce in the next meeting."

"Yeah, you mentioned something about that." Arthur chewed again at the end of his cigarette, looking from Ludwig's stiff posture to the inside of the house where he could hear the faint rumble of some car show. "Gilbert, huh?"

"Yes."

"Huh." He tossed down his cigarette down on the front doorstep and grounded it in with his shoe. "Well, that means you're not going to go out to the pub, then?"

Ludwig relaxed by a fraction. "I can't leave Gilbert alone."

"Bollocks." He paused briefly. "Well, I can't be bothered with getting drunk with that tone deaf American prat again, so budge." He shouldered past Ludwig - who was surprised enough to let himself be pushed aside - and ambled towards the German's kitchen. "I'll just nick some of your beer, Kraut."

He heard Ludwig make a half formed protest behind him before just closing the door. Arthur couldn't stop himself from peeking into the living-room, though, to see the small Nation laughing happily on the sofa when a car crashed into a wall. It was so fucking weird and surreal, but he shrugged his shoulders and entered the kitchen. Whatever. He was just going to get drunk and roll with it.

Ludwig entered behind him but hovered by the doorway, obviously too wound up to properly relax. "Don't get too drunk." He warned while Arthur rummaged about in the fridge. "Because I won't be driving you home or let you stay here."

"I'm going to get smashed anyway." Arthur scoffed. He picked up a beer can and examined it approvingly. "You Germans had Hitler but you know your bloody alcohol at least."

Ludwig pressed his lips into a thin line, but allowed the Englishman to ransack his fridge with an aggravated sigh. He disappeared from the kitchen, probably to the living-room to Sprog Gilbert, and Arthur rolled his eyes and fumbled for another cigarette. He really needed a fag.

So, armed with a six pack of beer and puffing away at a cigarette, Arthur entered the living-room and flopped down beside Sprog Gilbert on the sofa, cracking open a beer. He couldn't see Ludwig, so maybe he buggered off to somewhere else. He gulped down a mouthful of beer whilst still smoking - a trick perfected through trial and error.

Sprog Gilbert was looking at him with a frown, the bunny teddy clutched possessively against his chest. Arthur ignored him, because he wasn't sure if he could look at the carbon copy of the psychotic albino he knew decades ago without blurting out something stupid. He needed to be drunk enough so if he offended, getting hit wouldn't hurt.

Although being bludgeoned by a rabbit teddy probably won't hurt...

"Sprog." Arthur snapped out, his eyes fixated on the screen where cars where crashing into each other. Some retarded racing show. "Stop staring."

Sprog Gilbert just stuck his tongue out at him - brat - and wrinkled his nose. "You smell."

"No, I don't. That's just you."

"Is not!"

"It is too you bloody sprog."

"Don't call me sprog! I'm not a sprog."

"Sprog."

"Stink head!"

Arthur just gulped down another mouthful of beer, just as Ludwig entered the living-room. He ignored the pointed look he got and jerked his head at Gilbert. "He's a sprog." He said simply, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Gilbert thwacked his shoulder with the bunny teddy. It actually...hurt a little, ow.

Ludwig groaned and rubbed at his face. "Gott...never going to have peace..." He glared at Arthur. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't smoke in here."

Arthur just stared at him and took a long deliberate drag of his cigarette.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes before sighing helplessly. "Gilbert. Go outside and play."

"Why!? I wanna finish watching the telly!"

"Gilbert. Out."

Gilbert huffed and and jumped off the sofa, stomping out of the room and muttering 'Butthead' under his breath. Ludwig sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned to Arthur. "You're not questioning this?" He waved at where Gilbert had disappeared.

Arthur ignored Ludwig, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels. "This thing got Sports?"

"Gott..."

**X.x.X**

Gilbert muttered angrily as he nosed about the long grass near the edge of the garden's fence, having to keep a tight hold of Birdie as he did so in case on of the dogs tried to run off with him again. He was going to find a frog and stuff it in that stupid stink head's mouth! That would teach him to call him a Sprog!

"Ah, froggy, froggy~!" Gilbert cooed, passing over a black beetle as he shuffled about in the long grass. "Froggy, come here~!"

One of the dogs, an Alsation called Wagner, was helping Gilbert look for a frog, or just looking for bugs to eat as it licked up the beetle Gilbert had passed over moments ago and ate it. Wagner snuffled about the grass, startling Gilbert when it suddenly barked and nudged a small dark green lump with its nose. The lump croaked and jumped forwards, and Gilbert let loose a pleased squeal.

"Froggy!" Gilbert immediately snatched it up with his small hands, allowing Wagner to sniff it and give an approving bark. "Hah! Thanks, Wagner! Now time to give it to stink head!" Then he jumped up and jogged towards the house with Birdie tucked in his elbow and a small frog held in his hands. Wagner just barked and joined the other two dogs wrestling over a ball and rope toy.

Gilbert nudged the back door open with his shoulder, the frog ribbiting sadly at being carted around by a child. Gilbert wiped his feet on the placemat before entering the kitchen, snickering to himself in childish glee at what he had planned for the stupid stink head. He quickly walked into the living-room with the frog hidden in his hands, hoping that stink head wouldn't notice the ribbiting noise.

Stink head was sprawled on the sofa, empty cans scattered about him and his cigarette nowhere in sight. The telly was about some football match, and stink head was shouting drunkenly at the screen at how it was going. Bruder West was sighing and shaking his head in his way which said he was annoyed. Gilbert didn't blame him.

"Oi!" Gilbert barked as he interrupted another of stink head's shouting session. He saw Bruder West give his hands a suspicious look but Gilbert shuffled about so his back blocked the frog from view. "Stink head! Close your eyes and open your mouth!"

"Eeeh?" Stink head gave him a squinty, unfocused look but shrugged. "Why'sat?"

"Just do it, Stink head!"

Arthur shrugged again but did as he told, and Gilbert hopped up on the sofa and crammed the frantically croaking frog right into his mouth. Gilbert felt sorry for the frog briefly, but his pity for it was immediately forgotten when he saw Stink Head's hilarious reaction at having a slimy amphibian shoved into his mouth.

"Pleh!" Arthur coughed the frog up onto his lap, and Gilbert shrieked with laughter when the frog croaked in desperate confusion and hopped off onto the floor. The Englishman immediately snatched up his can of beer and nearly inhaled it to be rid of the horrible taste of frog out of his mouth, his drunken mind drawing up elaborate plans to get the little Sprog back.

Most of them involved some form of dismemberment.

Ludwig felt ready to curl up into a ball in the corner and slam his head into the wall as he bent down and scooped the frog up before it could disappear into the house or eaten by one of the dogs. He sighed, heavily, and looked between a still spluttering Arthur and a cackling Gilbert with a look usually seen on those who have lost all hope.

"Gott..."

The frog ribbited in agreement.

**Fin.**


	4. Cough, cough

**Title: **Scrapbook

**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Re_Born verse drabbles. 4th Oneshot: Cough, Cough: Ludwig was certain Gilbert would be the death of him.

**A/N: **BECAUSE THIS NEEDED TO BE DONE.

And is cut into two parts, really, because it seriously was getting too long, so...this is part one. Look out for part two in the future!

**  
X.x.X**

**  
4th ONESHOT: COUGH, COUGH  
**

Ludwig was horrified.

Well, horrified would actually be an understatement. He was more like, petrified and on the verge of hyperventilation as Gilbert coughed out these wheezy, violent gasps into his shoulder. Ludwig truly had no clue what to do, and the sound of his little brother gasping for air made him feel physically sick as he nearly threw out the contents of his medicine cabinet in search for something that cured 'Wheezy coughs for kids'.

His search was not going well.

Gilbert quietened down from his latest fit, and tightened his arms around Ludwig's neck as he sniffled again. "B-Bruuuuuuder....!" He howled weakly. "M-Make it s-stoooooop...!"

"I'm trying!" Ludwig snapped, finally giving up on searching for something in the medicine cabinet in disgust. He turned away, still holding a crying Gilbert against him tightly as his frantic mind tried to decide on what to do. Another explosive coughing fit from Gilbert made him cringe, and he gently shushed the coughing and sobbing child as he practically stormed out of the bathroom.

He was admonishing himself as he stomped down the stairs - Gilbert had been off his food for a few days, and a little lethargic, but Ludwig had _assumed_ that it was just a regular cold and just followed basic guidelines; but now he was paying for it because he had been woken up fifteen minutes ago by Gilbert stumbling into his room coughing hard enough that Ludwig feared - for one brief second - that he was going to hack up a lung or at least blood.

Thankfully Gilbert did no such thing, but he did nearly sick up all over the floor (Ludwig was able to carry him to the bathroom in time). But still, the sound of those coughs, and Gilbert's pained sobbing and his breathlessness was tearing Ludwig up inside.

The dogs were woken up by all the commotion, and Ludwig was snapping at them to stay down when they tried to jump up at him. He power walked into the kitchen, dogs on his heels, as he picked up one of the parental manuals and nearly ripped some of the pages tearing through it.

Illnesses. Illnesses. Illnesses. WHERE WAS THE FUCKING ILLNESSES SECTION!?

"Br! Br! Bru-uh-der...!" Gilbert wheezed out past coughs, and Ludwig could feel that his shoulder was wet with tears. "I-It huuurts~!"

"I know, I know..." Ludwig muttered distractedly, finally finding the illness section and skim reading over it. No, it wasn't a cold -too violent - no, not a stomach bug, no, no, coughs! Aha!

"Off food, yes...sucks in chest when breathing..." Ludwig thought back to when he had been grappling with a breakdown at seeing Gilbert nearly coughing up his lung in his bedroom. "...yes...breathing rapidly..." He shivered at the gaspy, quick breaths Gilbert was panting out against his shoulder. "Y-Yes...child drowsy and doesn't wake up. No, thank _Gott_...lips..._blue_ around the edges?" Gilbert didn't seem ready to lift his face from Ludwig's shoulder so he cast that off as a 'no'. "...momentarily stops breathing!?"

Dear God is this a check list for lung cancer for kids or something!?

He looked down at the guidelines. "If your child stops breathing or is turning blue, call the ambulance immediately. If your child is demonstrating any of the other symptoms, then you should take him/her to your doctor."

Doctor.

Gilbert coughed violently into his shoulder again.

Hospital more like it.

**X.x.X**

As Ludwig hurried through the A&E entrance, still holding Gilbert to himself tightly, his law abiding conscience grumbled at how he should be ashamed at breaking three speed limits and driving through a red light. But it went ignored as he walked up to the receptionist desk, clearing his throat loudly to gain the nurse's attention.

He felt Gilbert twitch against him, but Ludwig just stroked his hair as he stared down the nurse with his best 'listen-and-do-as-I-say-immediately' look. "I need a doctor. Now."

The nurse was unruffled. "You need to sign out this form first, sir," She slid an official looking document across the desk, tapping it with a blunt nail. "And we'll get you a doctor as soon as we can."

Ludwig looked round the waiting room - it was practically empty. "Look. Can you just have a doctor see Gilbert now and I'll sign this while he's checking him over?"

"Sorry, sir. The form needs to be filled out first."

Ludwig very nearly glowered, but a muffled cough against his shoulder made him bite down on the urge to shout the woman into doing what he wanted and practically snatched up the form. "Fine. Pen?"

The nurse handed a pen over with an unimpressed look, her eyes saying that she obviously thought Ludwig as one of those overreacting parents. Well, she may be right but the parental manual said that his child should see a doctor so God fucking damn Gilbert was going to see a doctor ASAP.

"Bru...Bruder, W-West..." Gilbert mumbled quietly when Ludwig was sat down at one of the uncomfortable waiting chairs. The back was too straight. "W-Where...a-are we?"

"The hospital, Gilbert." Ludwig answered softly, still stroking Gilbert's hair with one hand and clumsily filling out the form with another - it was hard to fill out a paper form against his thigh but he managed. "Name...Gilbert Weilschmidt. Age..." He paused. "...You look five." He jotted that down instead - he didn't know how old Gilbert was, honestly. Did it mean when Prussia was dissolved? Or when GDR was formed...what? Nevermind, next question. "Allergies? I don't think you're allergic to anything..."

The questions went on to ask contact number, name of parent/guardian, blood type, any medication ingested beforehand, any previous doctors, etc, etc, and Ludwig signed them off quickly and efficiently. Gilbert had stayed quiet, only breaking the oppressive silence that always overtakes a waiting room with the occasional coughing fit and small sniffles. He was glad Gilbert had stopped crying, honestly, but he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

He practically slammed the form and pen down on the desk before the nurse. "Finished. Now. Doctor?"

The nurse took up the form, not intimidated by the towering blond German, and looked through it quickly. She nodded after a moment, and stood up from her chair. "I'll go see if a doctor is free."

Ludwig grunted and walked back to his uncomfortable waiting chair. "They're acting like there isn't a child dying here..." He grumbled under his breath, resting his cheek on Gilbert's soft white hair. He felt Gilbert shift against him, coughing heavily, so he gently rubbed the child's back.

"Gilbert?" He murmured quietly. "Does it still hurt?"

A small sniffle. "Y-Yeah."

"Don't worry," Ludwig hastily assured. "A...a nice man is going to make the pain go away soon."

Gilbert sniffled again. "Why didn't...Bruder W-West make it g-go away?" He fisted his hands into the collar of Ludwig's shirt - which was all rumpled and crinkly due to the fact that he had just thrown it on when he had been frantically looking for his car keys. "I w-wanted Bruder West t-to make it go a-away!"

Ludwig almost cringed. "I'm sor-"

"Herr Weilschmidt?" The nurse was back, and she motioned for Ludwig to follow her quickly. "Dr. Scior is ready to see you now."

Ludwig leapt up and quickly followed the nurse - who was awfully fast for someone so short - and was led to an open room with two empty beds. She informed a young man in a white coat of their arrival before hurrying off back to her reception desk. Ludwig presumed the man to be 'Dr. Scior'.

"Ah, Herr Weilschmidt!" The man smiled pleasantly, and Ludwig nodded his head politely back. "And...is this your son?"

"No," Ludwig jostled Gilbert a little, the child Nation seemed reluctant to acknowledge the doctor. "My younger brother. He...has been coughing violently and my parental manuals says that I should seek medical help immediately."

"Alright, let's give," Dr. Scior looked at the form, "Little Gilbert a check over, hm? Place him on the bed here."

Ludwig did so - or tried to, but Gilbert refused to let go of his neck, and would make small distressed noises whenever Ludwig attempted to coax him to let go that gave way to shuddering coughs. Ludwig was starting to get irritated with the whole situation - his nerves were stretched thin - but he remembered Gilbert's little night terror and how his irritation merely made things worse then, so he bit back the urge to snap at Gilbert to stop being ridiculous and let the doctor help him.

"Gilbert..." Ludwig sighed. "Let go."

"...no..."

Dr. Scior was politely giving Ludwig a few private moments to detach Gilbert from himself by reading over the form, so Ludwig twined his fingers into soft hair and gently pulled Gilbert's head away from his shoulder. The child's flushed, sickly face made Ludwig's chest twist painfully, but he kept his expression stern.

"Gilbert, let go and sit on the bed."

Gilbert sniffled and released a soft cough. "I d-don't want B-Bruder West t-to go away."

"I'm not going away. You just need to sit on the bed to let Dr. Scior to look at you." Ludwig allowed himself to give a reassuring smile at the child. "I'll still be here...I'll...even hold your hand."

Gilbert was quiet for a few seconds before nodding reluctantly. He loosened his grip around Ludwig's neck, and Ludwig gently lowered the child Nation onto the bed as Dr. Scior swept over with his stethoscope out. Gilbert was already gripping Ludwig's large hand with his small, soft one, and the larger Nation gave it a light squeeze.

"I'm just going to unbutton your shirt, Gilbert, to listen to your breathing, okay?"

Gilbert looked between the doctor and his brother, and seeing Ludwig nod slightly, Gilbert copied the action hesitently, erupting into another coughing fit. The doctor quickly unbuttoned the child's night shirt and placed the metal end of the stethoscope against Gilbert's chest, ignoring the flinch from the cold.

"Hmm..." Dr. Scior moved the stethoscope about his chest, listening closely to the sounds of Gilbert's lungs inflating and deflating. "Ahhh, okay." He moved the stethoscope away and buttoned up Gilbert's shirt again, reaching out for his clipboard and jotting something down.

Ludwig couldn't stop himself shift about in nervousness while the doctor did small little tests on his younger brother, unable to stop his thoughts from jumping from one pessimisstic thought to another. It could be a normal cough, but it looked too serious to be a normal chesty cough...perhaps it was bronchitis...or, or pneumonia! Ludwig didn't realise he was gnawing on his thumbnail as his thoughts spiralled down further. Well, no, it could not be pneumonia because Gilbert hadn't been out in the rain and kept suitably warm and dry. So, so...his thoughts nearly screeched. What if it was...cancer!?

His rational side bitch slapped him to his senses. _Don't be ridiculous._

"Well, Herr Weildschmidt," Dr. Scior's voice brought Ludwig out of his pessimistic thoughts. "It seems to be nothing too serious. Just a very nasty cough."

Ludwig blinked rapidly. "Just..._just_ a cough?"

"Yes." Dr. Scior signed something on his clipboard. "He needs plenty of fluids, given to him in _small_ doses frequently - it can be milk or diluted fruit juice or even water. Also, plenty of rest, no taking him out to crowded places for a while." Dr. Scior tore something off his clipboard and handed it over to the blond German. "There's the details of his care. The cough should clear up after a week, but can persist for at most four weeks."

Ludwig quickly scanned the instructions given to him, and nodded. "Ah, thank you, Dr. Scior."

"You're welcome, Herr Weildschmidt." The doctor nodded at Gilbert who seemed to be swaying a little out of fatigue. "He just needs some rest, and some form of paracetamol. Possibly Tixymol or Disprol, or Ibuprofen for an alternative. His cough sounds bad, but he will be fine so long as he has plenty of rest. But, if it does get worse rapidly, or you still have concerns, feel free to bring him back for another check up."

Ludwig nodded again and quickly scooped Gilbert up against him. "I will." He felt like it was easier to breathe now, just a cough! Albeit nasty, but better than, than bronchitis or pneumonia or something! "Thank you again, Dr. Scior."

Gilbert was silent when Ludwig was walking through the corriders out of the hospital, and only spoke when they were outside in the chilly night air. "Are we...going...home now...?"

"Yes, after we go to the garage for some medicine for you," they're bound to have Ibuprofen at least, "and you can go back to sleep."

Gilbert mumbled incoherently, coughing, then raised his voice a little just as Ludwig reached the car. "I still...feel horrible, though."

"I'm sorry." Ludwig murmured, opening up the back door to his car and carefully placing Gilbert on the seat and buckling him up. "You'll feel horrible for a while, Gilbert, but I promise you'll get better, okay?"

Gilbert nodded tiredly, rubbing at his eye. "...okay..."

Ludwig sighed and quickly climbed into the driver's seat, switching on the engine. He took a brief moment to close his eyes and sag against his chair in mind numbing relief. Thank God, only a cough. Nothing serious. He opened his eyes and sat up stiffly in his seat, rubbing at his eyes to banish the tired itchiness in them. God, it was three in the morning according to his car's clock.

But still, despite the fact he felt ready to pass out onto his steering wheel, he was full of some weird energy at the fact that his brother was not dying - even though the scare at Gilbert gave him shaved a few years off of his long life.

"I'm going to be grey before the new millennium." He muttered to himself with a wry smile.

**Fin.**


	5. Babysitter

**Title: **Scrapbooks

**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany, England

**Rating: **T because Arthur is a British Arsehole

**Summary: **Re_Born verse. Arthur despised children, especially the sprog, so why the fuck is he babysitting him?

**A/N: **Well, I bet you were all hoping for more kid!Gilbert and failparent!Ludwig fluff, but this was seriously too good to pass up. So, you all get to see the hilarity of babysitter!Arthur looking after sickbrat!Gilbert because Ludwig does still have a job, and his superiors are probably wondering why their nation hasn't been in for a good month or so.

I apologise, but this steadily goes into the realm of crack as it goes on.

Enjoy!

**  
X.x.X**

**5th ONESHOT: BABYSITTER**

Arthur hated kids. They were loud, sticky and obnoxious, and he was quite happy to forever avoid the little brats and mentally shove them all off a cliff whenever they threw crap all over the public bus or - and he wasn't naming names - shoved _frogs_ into his mouth. In that case, when Ludwig had asked him - in a very strained voice that just screamed 'please-just-say-yes-and-I-will-buy-you-all-the-beer-you-want-next-pub-weekend' - to look after his sick younger brother for a few hours while he had to go to work to sate his superiors suspicions for his absences, it was logical that Arthur would snap out a definite 'Bugger off, no'.

Unfortunately for Arthur, Ludwig had phoned him after he had downed a few beers, and in an agreeable mood he had unthinkingly slurred out a 'sure, why not?' instead.

So here he was, having a harried Ludwig shoot out rapid instructions to him on how to care his beloved sick brother, and telling him to please act mature and not to rise to Gilbert's baits - "he's in a terrible mood, especially since I told him I wouldn't be here for a while" - and to _not_ overdose him on painkillers otherwise Ludwig would hunt him down and make Arthur eat his own genitals, alright? Alright.

"Look, I know, I bloody understand." Arthur snapped, popping a painkiller to stave off the mild hangover. "Look after sprog, make sure he doesn't run around, pass out on sofa, yeah. Got it, kraut."

Ludwig's eyebrow twitched, but he didn't say anything and pulled on his jacket, gently nudging Eike the Hovawart's nose from his crotch. "Just look after him, he should be asleep most of the time anyway." He checked his watch and cursed. "If you do this right, I promise, next weekend, the pub."

"Who's gonna look after your bundle of joy then?" Arthur grouchily asked, pulling a face at Wagner sniffing at his shoes curiously. "Don't think 'bout it, Blondi."

His question went ignored. "You know where to contact me." Ludwig opened the front door, paused as if he really didn't want to leave his sick and vulnerable brother to the mercy of a British asshole, and then stepped outside. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Your house will be in one piece." Arthur promised. "And probably your sprog too."

Ludwig gave him a narrowed stare. "Focus more on Gilbert than the house." He warned, before closing the door, the click of the catch sounding very much like the damning toll of a bell to Arthur.

Arthur procured a fag, lighting it up and reading the back of the box of painkillers. "Well...fuck."

**X.x.X**

Gilbert coughed as he peered through his bedroom window, watching Ludwig walk down the driveway to work with a mildly hurt expression. Ludwig never used the car going to work - unless he was late or it was raining - so Gilbert had a good few, lingering minutes to watch his brother walk down the street before he disappeared from his sight.

"He's leaving me alone again." Gilbert frowned, slouching away from the window to flop against his bed. He still felt terrible, though not as bad as he did a few days ago, and rubbed at his aching eyes. "Stupid meathead."

He heard someone walk up the stairs, and Gilbert's expression soured as he corrected himself. "No, he's leaving me alone with stink head." He stuck out his tongue like he tasted something nasty, and sat up again (even though that took a lot of energy he didn't have), glowering at his closed bedroom door.

Not a second later, the door was rudely kicked open, and unimpressed green eyes met his glower head on.

"Sprog."

"Stink head."

Arthur sighed around his cigarette, blowing out a stream of smoke, and stepped into the bedroom. He looked around and decided that Ludwig really spoilt the little brat. "Alright, let's set something straight." He began, looking back at the pouting sprog. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and pointed it at the child nation. "I loathe you, and I'm sure the feeling's mutual, sprog, so I'm proposing a deal."

Gilbert continued to glare at him.

Arthur ignored it and cupped a hand under his cigarette as hot ash dropped into his palm. "Bril, 'kay, we just get along today, no pissin' on each other, and if today's all dandy and nice, you won't be overdosed with painkillers and I'll get to keep my testicles. Sound good?"

Gilbert tilted his chin arrogantly, obviously trying to look intimidating - but his childish features, sickly white skin and bruises under his eyes offset the intimidating look by quite a bit. "You wouldn't try to 'overdose' me," Gilbert sneered, he wasn't sure what the word meant but he could still sense the threat behind it, "Bruder West would squish you if you did."

Arthur sucked on his cigarette. "...It would be worth it." He decided after a pause. "So, deal?"

Gilbert stuck out his tongue thoughtfully, scrunching his face up before blowing a raspberry. "Fine. Deal. Now go away, stink head, you smell."

"Don't call me stink head." Arthur growled, deliberately blowing out smoke in the direction of the sick child. Gilbert responded by coughing and giving him a watery glare. "You stupid sprog."

"I'm not a sprog!" Gilbert exploded, throwing a pillow at Arthur - or tried to, in his weakened state it fell ungracefully at the Englishman's feet. "Don't call me sp-p-p..." Gilbert was cut off by a coughing fit, planting a hand over his mouth to try and hold them in.

Arthur sighed, taking one last drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out with wet fingers. "You fucking pisher..." He grumbled, walking over, stuffing the cigarette butt into his pocket and slapping the child's back. "Oi, oi, want water or something?"

Gilbert finally stuttered to a halt, pushing Arthur's hand away and wheezing a little as he glared at the Englishman. "Y-Yeah," He paused, and then mumbled out grudgingly, "Please..."

Arthur snorted at the child, giving another slap to Gilbert's back. "...Sippy cup or no?" He teased, grinning deviously at the appalled look that flittered across the albino's face.

"I don't need a sippy cup!" Gilbert snapped, punching Arthur weakly in the stomach. "Stink head!"

"Don't hit people, you stupid sprog."

"Don't call me sprog!"

**X.x.X**

They broke their shaky truce at least six times before noon rolled around, and Arthur had ran out of cigarettes by that time. Gilbert, despite being ill, still had enough energy to drive the Brit up the wall and even though he should've been confined to his bed (Arthur had even told him he would kick him down the stairs if he even put a toe out of his bedroom without permission), Gilbert was stubbornly playing about on the floor - loudly.

Arthur, sprawled out on the living room sofa and trying to smother himself via the cushion, groaned when another round of loud thuds vibrated through the ceiling. Why did the sprog's bedroom _have_ to be directly above the bloody living room!? He fumbled about in his pocket for his precious, precious fags, but he belatedly remembered that there weren't any left.

Bloody effing hell.

But wait, that damn kraut should have some hidden away at least! And if not, he has beer in his fridge! Cheered, Arthur threw the cushion carelessly on the floor and rolled off the sofa, ignoring the thumping noises from Gilbert's room and started his snooping about in the kitchen. There weren't any fags hidden in any of the drawers (but he lingered longingly by the knives drawer, although the threat to his genitals by an overprotective German helped him repress his homicidal urges so he passed by with a wistful sigh). However, he did find a cigar - a Cuban one, so he nicked it, deeming it as payment for being tricked into this babysitting torture.

He checked the kitchen clock over the door of the fridge. "Hm. The stupid sprog should be gettin' hungry by now." He decided, straightening up with a beer in one hand, and a cigar in the other, and nudged the fridge close with his hip. It was tempting to let the annoying brat starve, but, no, images of Ludwig turning mother bear on him for not feeding his precious sick baby brother flashed through his mind. They were...terrifying, as mother bears were terrifying and Ludwig - who was already quite intimidating - merged with the overprotective maternal instincts of a mother bear...

...

Oh, why did he feel faint just then?

Shoving the horrific thoughts of his mutilated corpse out of his mind, Arthur decided that he may as well _ask_ if the brat wanted something to eat. So it was with a swig of his beer and a puff of his cigar that he ascended the stairs, preparing his frayed nerves to be assaulted by Gilbert's mere existence. Seriously, that kraut _owes_ him for this.

"Oi, Sprog." Arthur called around his cigar, rapping on the bedroom door. He could still hear thuds, but he didn't want to know what that psychotic child was doing. Probably beheading teddies or something. "You listenin'!?"

The thudding stopped. "No!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. What a stupid child. "Well," He snorted, and barged in without any warning – and immediately ducked from the football that was thrown at his head. "Oi! You little bugger!"

Gilbert scowled at his failed attack. "You perv!" He barked, pointing at the frowning Englishman. "What if I was naked!?"

Snorting, Arthur gave Gilbert a contemptuous look as he puffed on his cigar. "Then I'd have to burn my fucking eyes out." He scoffed. "Anyways, what're you doing playin' indoor footie? Told you to stay in bed and _sleep_."

Gilbert stuck out his tongue. "Don't wanna."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur chewed irritably at the end of his cigar before stomping forwards and picking Gilbert up. Immediately the sick child began squirming and kicking, but Arthur ignored it. He had looked after Alfred and Matthew when they were kids, after all (although it was mostly Alfred who was the squirming brat, climbing trees and rolling about in the mud. Bloody pig).

"Put me down! Stink head! Pervert! Doooooooooooown!"

Arthur grunted when one of Gilbert's kicks came awfully close to his groin. "Oi, stop fucking squirming." He grumbled, walking slowly to the bed and trying to stop the child from wriggling out of his arms and onto the floor. He was chewing furiously on the end of his cigar, and finally gave a sigh of relief when he dumped Gilbert unceremoniously on the bed.

He pointed at the child nation. "Stay."

Gilbert, flushed and panting from exertion, gave a semi-intimidating snarl. "I'm not a dog." He wheezed, his attempt at a growl disrupted by a coughing fit. "A-And you stink!"

Arthur frowned and sniffed about the room, aside from the slightly acrid smell from the cigar, he didn't smell anything that was causing the sprog to clamp his hands over his nose and mouth, eyes watering. "What are you talking about? I don't smell."

"You do! You do smell!" Gilbert's voice was nasal. "I'm telling Bruder West that you're making me sicker!" He suddenly exploded into a bout of bad coughs, a fit that made Arthur roll his eyes. "S-See?"

"Yeah, right, whatever." Stupid plonker. Like he gave a shit. "Now, if you've finished," He drawled as Gilbert's cough lessened into small wheezes, "Whaddya want for nosh?"

"E-Eh?"

"Food, Sprog. Whaddya want for food?"

Gilbert didn't even take a moment to think as he immediately snapped out; "I want cake."

"You're not having cake, Sprog."

"Ice cream."

"Not that either."

"Brownie."

"No."

"Pie!"

Arthur rubbed at his forehead. Oh, _whatever_. "Fine. You can have pie!" Does the kraut have pie in his fridge? Arthur couldn't remember past the beer in the fridge door…oh, well, he's sure he can make a meat and potato pie if needed. There's probably enough sausages and potatoes in this damned house to make one. "But while I'm cooking it, fucking _sleep_."

Gilbert pouted but obligingly crawled under his covers. "Alright," He grumbled sourly. "But it's not 'coz I'm tired or anything!"

"Sure, whatever, Sprog."

**X.x.X**

Two and a half hours later, Arthur was waving the smoke away from the oven as he slid out the cooking tray, placing it hastily on the stove and slamming the smoking oven door close. He coughed lightly, far too used to the smoke by now, and threw down the oven mitts.

One could arguably say that a pie did lay, slightly charred and smoking, on the cooking tray, but one could also arguably say that what lay there was an abomination of cooking. Arthur decided it was a pie, mostly because there wasn't an annoyingly smug Frenchman attempting to blur out the food from existence with bad pixels (how Francis succeeded in manipulating the basics of reality to do such a thing remained a mystery).

"Right, done." Arthur said proudly, washing his hands under the tap. "The sprog better be hungry, hn."

From the doorway of the kitchen, he could hear one of the Blondis bark at the faint haze of smoke still lingering about, but he ignored it. What did dogs know of cuisine, anyway? They ate their own poo.

Arthur glanced at the clock. Quarter to three, well, the kraut should be back in an hour and three quarters, thank God. He can just go up, kick the sprog awake, feed him, and watch the sports channel until Ludwig came home-

A small part of Arthur's brain sniggered how much he sounded like a housewife.

Arthur attempted to drive the horrific image out of his head with another bottle of beer and a few head-slammings on the kitchen counter.

**X.x.X**

Gilbert groaned when he was nudged awake, rolling over and pressing his face into the pillow. There was an aggravated sigh above him, and his shoulder was shaken borderline roughly. "Oi, sprog, wake up."

"Nnghmphngumph."

"…What?"

"Pmhpngh."

There was a huff. "I guess you don't want your fucking pie then."

Pie? Gilbert groaned again and clawed himself upright in the same fashion as a zombie, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "Whazzatpie?"

"Yeah, pie." He heard a plate being set down on his bedside dresser. "I cooked it myself too, which was hard since your brother puts all his cooking shite in weird places."

Gilbert blinked, attempting to rub the sleep dust from his eyes. He peered fuzzily at the plate on his bedside dresser, and stared at it. It looked like no other pie he had ever seen. "Uh…"

"What?" He could hear a hint of defensiveness in his babysitter's voice. "Don't want pie anymore?"

Gilbert wanted to say that he still wanted pie, but what was on that plate was clearly not a pie; or perhaps ask if the Brit was trying to none-too-subtly poison him. Instead what came out of Gilbert's mouth was; "That's pie?"

There was a string of obscene curses – many which Gilbert had never heard before – before the Englishman stormed out of the room snarling something about 'ungrateful pishers'. Gilbert stuck his tongue out at his retreating back.

He looked back at the 'pie', and wrinkled his nose. The stink head was trying to kill him. Shuffling forwards, he gingerly took the plate and wriggled off his bed, holding the plate at arms length while he quietly tiptoed through the open bedroom door. He looked up and down the hallway.

Clear.

Sneaking out, Gilbert crouched at the top of the stairs, not trusting himself to go downstairs quietly just yet, and gave a soft whistle that was nearly drowned out by the noises from the living room. Someone was shouting. Telly, then. "Wagner~" He called quietly.

Wagner, snuffling about the foot of the stairs, perked up and looked up the stairs at Gilbert. Gilbert gave another soft whistle and tapped the uppermost stair. The Alsatian barked. Gilbert cringed, waiting for his babysitter to storm out in his usual angry fashion.

Instead:

"Shut up, Blondi!"

Gilbert sagged in relief when Arthur didn't come out to shout that, and gave Wagner a disapproving glare before patting the stair. "Up." He whispered, and after another bark the dog padded up the stairs obediently.

When Wagner reached him Gilbert pushed the plate to him. "Food." He said, before starting his slow and quiet climb down the stairs, not knowing that he had just about poisoned Wagner.

It took a good five minutes for him to reach the bottom stair, and he had to muffle his coughs by stuffing his fist into his mouth. After that small episode, Gilbert tiptoed past the living room, thankful that the sofa faced away from the doorway, and to the front door.

Gilbert scowled. He needed something to stand on to reach the lock. He looked about, and found a pile of old phonebooks stashed in a small alcove. He dragged them over, and climbed on them, unlocking the front door and wrenching it open a little, having to jump off the phonebooks and push them back to fully open the door.

Right.

Eike barked nearly immediately, and Gilbert tried to shush the Hovawart but failed. He made an annoyed noise, and squeaked when Arthur marched out of the living room shouting at 'Blondi' to shut up once more.

"Bloody mutt! Shut the fu- sprog?" The Englishman stuttered to a halt, blinking at the child nation standing by the open front door before scowling. "Why the fuck-"

"Stink head!" Gilbert interrupted before running out of the front door, nearly tripping down the front steps and sprinted down the drive way. "You're a stink head! Stink head!" He continued to shout, only stopping by the road and turning around to see the insulted man himself come marching out of the house.

"Fucking kraut owes me for this!" Arthur roared, stomping down the driveway with the two dogs barking at his heels. "Bloody pisher, what did I tell you!?" He just about reached Gilbert and was about to lunge and snatch the child up when Gilbert gave a battle cry and body slammed into his knees.

There was a squawk, and then Arthur was sprawled out half on the pavement and half on the road while Gilbert cackled as he sprinted back into the house, the dogs following the demonic child. Arthur spat a curse into the tarmac and climbed to his feet, fingers curling into a throttling gesture.

"I'll kill 'im," He vowed. "Kill 'im with my bare hands and stuff 'im in the fucking blender. Fucking bloody shittin' pisher, I'll fucking kill 'im."

"Oi! Stink head!"

Arthur looked up from where he was imagining his hands wrapped around that small neck, and snarled at the object of his fury smirking at him from the brat's bedroom window. "What!?"

Gilbert had a sickeningly smug grin. "Go get me candy!"

What? "Why the fuck would I do that, you fucking piece of shit!?" Arthur snarled, storming back up to the house. "I'm gonna fucking _kill_ you instead!" He wrenched open the front door – or tried to.

It was locked.

Oh…oh, that fucking _bitch_.

Calming breaths, Arthur. Caaaalm~ "Let. Me. In. Sprog."

"Nuh uh!" Gilbert laughed. "I'll only let you in if you go get me candy, and, and wurst! And presents!"

Arthur stepped back to glare in utter _loathing_ at the brat, giving a low growl. "And where the fuck am I gonna get that!?"

"I dunno. Just go get it!"

"No fucking way, you fucking pisher!"

"If you don't, I'll tell Bruder West that you were mean to me! And…and you touched me!"

Arthur gave a snort. Like the kraut was gonna believe that he molested the fucking pisher. "He's not gonna believe yooou~"

"Yes he will!" Gilbert's face suddenly crumpled, realistic tears gathering in his eyes as he spoke in a trembling voice, "B-Bruder West…" He hiccupped. "Stink h-head t-touched me…a-and it f-felt…w-weird a-and, and b-baaad!"

Arthur's eye twitched.

"A-And…he was m-mean to me!" Gilbert continued, burying his face into his hands, shoulders shaking. "I w-was so scared, B-Bruder West!" Then he paused and lowered his hands, giving Arthur an innocent smile. "So! You gonna go get me candy?"

This was war. Arthur crouched down, grabbing a small rock from the lawn. "I'm gonna get you something alright…"

**X.x.X**

When Ludwig was walking back home, he had a feeling that perhaps leaving Arthur – British drunkard and accomplished asshole – in charge of his younger brother was not the wisest move on his part. This wasn't the first time the thought occurred to him, but as he got closer to home he was steadily gaining more and more sure that maybe…maybe he should have gotten another babysitter.

But, no, he shouldn't worry. Arthur may be a little…rough…but he raised two kids. Surely he had be able to handle Gilbert for a few hours. He'll just see the Englishman sprawled out on his sofa in an alcohol induced coma and Gilbert sleeping in his room.

…Hopefully.

Unfortunately, this hope was ruthlessly crushed when he came upon the warzone that was his house.

Ludwig stood at the foot of his driveway, just staring for one long moment. His front door had footprints all over it, and a few cracks where someone had obviously tried to boot it down, and the kitchen window was completely smashed in. Dogs were howling inside the house, but it barely started to smother the screaming match happening inside.

Oh Gott…

Rushing up to his house, he quickly unlocked the door and burst in, only taking a second to realise that the screaming was from upstairs. Taking the steps at two at a time, and hopping over Wagner who was for some reason lying down in the middle of the hallway whining, Ludwig came across the source of the screaming.

Arthur and what sounded like Gilbert, who holed himself up in the bathroom.

"You! Bloody! Fucking! Sprog!" Arthur was shrieking, kicking the bathroom door and waving about what Ludwig recognised as Birdie. "If you don't fucking come out I'll tear your, what'sit? Birdie's fucking head off!"

"If you do I'll drown myself in the toilet and then Bruder West will beat you up, Stink Head!"

"I'll fucking _ki-_"

"Arthur!"

The Englishman squawked and whirled round, obviously surprised, before giving Ludwig a glare. "Oi! Don't fucking sneak up on people, kraut!"

"What the _hell_ are you doing!?" Ludwig snarled.

"Bruder West!" Gilbert's voice cried through the bathroom door. "Bruder West's home!" Then Gilbert's voice suddenly became strained and upset. "Stink head was mean to me!"

Ludwig's eyes narrowed.

Arthur kicked the bathroom door. "Shut the fuck up, Sprog! I was not!"

"He was! He g-got drunk, Bruder West!" Gilbert sounded on the verge of crying. "A-And then he b-broke the window s-so I hid up h-here! I-I was s-so s-scaaaared~!"

Growling low in his throat, Ludwig began advancing on a heavily sweating Arthur, his internal parental instincts rising to the surface.

"Oh fuck…" Arthur backed off from the door, dropping Gilbert's bunny teddy and held his hands up defensively, addressing the bathroom door. "Bravo. I commend your acting ability…now tell him you were lying, Sprog."

"Arthur…" Ludwig snarled. "_Out_."

"But he's ly-"

"**_Out_**."

Arthur snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets, slinking past the seething Ludwig with the air of wounded pride, before stopping by the stairs. "Are we still on for the pub next weekend?"

"**_GET OUT, YOU DRUNKEN BRIT_**!"  
"Okay, okay, Jesus shittin' Christ…"

Ludwig was never letting Arthur babysit again.

**Fin.**


	6. Unwelcome

**Title: **Scrapbooks

**Artist/Author: **KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Young!Prussia, Germany, Helmut Kohl (Chancellor of Germany in 1992)

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Re_Born verse. Ludwig introduces Gilbert to his bosses - unfortunately they don't seem too thrilled.

**A/N: **Yes, Gilbert being introduced to the superiors time. Of course, they're not gonna recieve Gilbert all that very well since Prussia is still viewed not nicely in Germany, and Gilbert, well, yes, resembles Prussia quite a lot (and shares the name, but, eh, reincarnation. What can you do?). So, yes, this is going to be awkward.

Ugh, had to see who's in charge of Germany at the time and all sorts for this. Hurt my brain since I'm shite at politics. Thank you Broken for your help :D

Enjoy!

**  
X.x.X**

**6th ONESHOT: UNWELCOME**

Gilbert was very uncomfortable.

For one, he was dressed smartly, something that made Gilbert feel extremely stiff because Ludwig had told him to not crease the clothes, so he had to move with the precision of a doll without the ability to bend their joints. But at least his brother allowed him to keep Birdie with him - after a quick wash to get rid of the food stains all over the bunny teddy's fur.

The second reason why he was uncomfortable was because of the _stares._

Gilbert was gripping Ludwig's hand tightly, practically gluing himself to the side of the larger nation's leg, as they walked through imposing hallways, aware of passing workers stopping to stare at him. He didn't know why they were staring at him, or Bruder West, and he clutched Birdie tighter to his chest, feeling his brother squeeze his small hand reassuringly.

"They're just curious," Ludwig murmured to him, finally stopping before a large official looking door.

"It's not nice to stare, though." Gilbert pointed out, giving another staring passer by a squinty glare. The man quickly hurried on.

"It is." Ludwig suddenly knelt down, now holding Gilbert's hands with two of his, and gave his younger brother a meaningful look. "Now, this is very important, Gilbert. When we go in here," He tilted his head to the door, "I want you to stay silent, unless _Herr Bundeskanzler_ addresses you with a direct question, okay?"

"Why should I be quiet?" Gilbert asked, not understanding the look Ludwig was giving him.

"Just...promise me you will." This situation will already be volatile enough without Gilbert blurting out something...well, Prussia-like. "Any comments or whatever...just, please, don't say anything unless _Herr Bundeskanzler_ asks you something."

"Okay..."

Ludwig sighed in relief and stood, knocking on the door and giving Gilbert's hand one more squeeze. "Remember. Shhh."

Gilbert nodded, hiding the bottom half of his face behind Birdie's head. He felt nervous, mostly because he had no clue what was going on really, but also because he had a faint sense of unease about the whole sketchy situation.

Ludwig shared his anxiety, but more so because he _knew_ what was going on. He knew, as Helmut had been one of the main forces behind the German Reunification - spent half of his career on it - that his boss would not be pleased to see an East Germany, to see the nation still split in two. It would be an insult to his efforts, but he could not hide Gilbert forever, and eventually they would find out and...it was better to show him now and smooth any ruffled feathers than have this blow up in their faces later down the road.

When he was called in, Ludwig took a deep calming breath and opened to door to face the assembled cabinet with the blankest expression he could muster, proudly striding in with a nervous Gilbert stumbling in next to him.

He stopped before his boss, Helmut Kohl, and nodded to him respectively, back straight and whole posture stiff as Gilbert practically hugged his leg out of sheer anxiety by the stares boring into him. Ludwig could feel little blunt nails dig into his rough palm, and he rubbed his calloused thumb over the back of the small hand, trying to soothe.

"Germany," Helmut finally said after a pregnant pause. "...who is that?"

The other members of the cabinet were practically vibrating in their seats from the tension building in the room, and Ludwig obediently answered the question. "This is Gilbert, Weilschmidt," a collective tremor went through the entire cabinet at the familiar name, "East Germany."

The silence was deafening.

"East Germany," Helmut repeated softly, and that seemed to be the signal for the other cabinet members to explode into accusations, Gilbert shrinking against his brother at the angry voices directed at him, his scarlet eyes wide with bewilderment.

"It's obvious who it is!" One man shouted to Gilbert's right, and the child nation wished that he could wriggle round until Ludwig was between them. The glint in those eyes scared him. "It's the return of that warmonger, Prussia! Back to poison us!"

Almost immediately the shouts rose in crescendo, each of the cabinet members trying to get themselves heard over each other, and as it dragged, Ludwig's expression grew darker and darker and Gilbert just looked around at the shouting people in utter fear and bewilderment as Helmut sat quietly in his seat, watching all of this unfold with a neutral expression.

"_ENOUGH_!"

The silence was eerily abrupt.

Everyone was staring at Ludwig, frozen in place by the expression of cold fury sharpening his features. Distantly, they could feel the floor beneath their feet growl and rumble in warning, and hurriedly, the humans sat down, utterly quiet save for the soft, shuddering breaths of an upset Gilbert clinging with both hands at Ludwig's leg, Birdie crushed between them.

"Please leave Germany and I alone," Helmut finally spoke, eyes not leaving Ludwig as he addressed the rest of the cabinet. No one moved for a few minutes, reluctant to do anything to anger their nation again, but they got up eventually, slowly leaving the room and shooting dark glances at Gilbert.

The three of them were alone, and Ludwig opened his mouth to speak, but Helmut cut in before he could get a word in edgewise.

"Leave..._him_ outside, Germany."

Ludwig's jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly. "Gilbert," He murmured, placing a hand atop of soft white hair. "Go wait outside. Please."

Gilbert didn't want to let go of his brother's leg, but the whole room's mood was making him feel a little sick, and Bruder West had a scary expression on his face, so he slowly detached himself. "O-Okay, Bruder West..."

Ludwig absently ruffled Gilbert's hair, not taking his eyes off of Helmut. "I'll be out in a minute."

Nodding doubtfully, looking between Ludwig and Helmut with a worried expression, Gilbert slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He remained there though, and squatted down, Birdie hugged to his chest and pressing his ear against the door. He was curious about why Bruder West's bosses hated him, and why everything was so...tense.

There was a moment of utter silence, before Gilbert heard the low rumble of his brother's voice. He couldn't make it out right though, they were speaking too quietly, and frowned in concentration, pressing against the door harder. He caught a few words, and as the conversation went on - and got steadily louder - it got more coherent.

"No one else should know about him."

"I have to introduce him to the other nations, to be acknowledged-"

"That should not be acknowledged."

Gilbert frowned, hugging Birdie tightly to his chest. He could practically feel the contempt for him oozing through the door at him, and he swallowed thickly as the conversation continued.

"...he will be introduced at the World Summit Meeting." Bruder West's voice sounded borderline rebellious - uncharacteristic.

"Germany is one unified nation. _One_. I spent a long time fighting for that." A long pause. "He shouldn't exist."

"But he does," Bruder West's voice was stiff, "He does exist as East Germany, and I as West."

"_You_ are Germany. That is...that should stay out of sight."

A pregnant pause.

Gilbert grew even more uneasy at the silence, fidgeting with Birdie's ear as the silence dragged. He heard someone walk by, and his skin prickle as he recognised a quickly familiar sensation of someone staring, but he ignored it in favour of what was going on within the room.

"Are you sure he is East Germany?"

Gilbert could fel his brother's brief confusion. "Yes."

"...From what I recognise from pictures," a pause, "His appearance is uncannily similar to Prussia."

This time, the silence was near painful, and Gilbert was ruthlessly twisting Birdie's ear in agitation.

"Prussia is dead."

"Or so Russia had said."

"He's _dead_. I saw his body. He. Is. Dead."

Gilbert leant away from the door, biting his bottom lip. He didn't know if he should be listening any more, and a sudden loud burst of "there is no chance of a relapse!" nearly made him tumble away in shock. He scooted back away from the door, crouched down on the floor as muffled yells started up behind the door.

He wanted to go home...

What felt like hours later, the shouting finally stopped and the door was wrenched open. Gilbert jumped, hiding his face behind Birdie and only relaxed when it was Bruder West who stormed out and slammed the door shut. "B-Bruder West!"

Ludwig didn't react at first, staring intently at the wall in front of him, nostrils flaring and hands clenched into white knuckled fists, but slowly his posture sagged and he turned to his younger brother, smiling tiredly. "I'm sorry, Gilbert." He sighed, crouching down and ruffling Gilbert's hair. "Didn't go...as smoothly as I hoped."

Gilbert frowned. "...Did I do something bad?"

"No! No, no..." Ludwig sighed again, and picked Gilbert up, straightening up and holding the smaller nation close against his body. "You did nothing wrong. They're just...they just need to adjust to the idea of you."

Gilbert didn't understand, but he nodded anyway, clutching at Ludwig. "I wanna go home, Bruder West."

"That's okay." Ludwig pressed a kiss to his younger brother's temple, already walking down the hallway and ignoring the looks he was getting from the other employees of the building. Assuredly they had already heard of his near screaming match with his boss already, as gossip worthy material such as that seemed to spread faster than the speed of light. "Do you want to stop for ice cream first?"

Feeling his mood rise a little, Gilbert smiled. "Yeah...and so does Birdie! We want mint!"

Ludwig laughed aloud, smiling back at the younger nation. A trip down to S-Bahn and ride to Hauptbannhof it is, then! "And then we can go out for a walk with the dogs," He continued, "Would you mind that?"

"Will we get to play in the park again?"

"Ja. Anything you want."

Gilbert gave Ludwig a brilliant smile, any previous uneasiness from the last hour gone at the promise of ice cream and a playdate in the park. "Yay! Ice cream and park!" He barely noticed the stares people were giving him anymore. Let 'em stare! He only cared what Bruder West thought of him anyway! "Bruder West is awesome!"

Ludwig laughed again, although a lot more softly. "And so are you...Bruder East."

**Fin.**


	7. Terminate Interlude

**Title: **Reborn

**Artist/Author:**KivaEmber

**Character(s)/Pairing(s):**Young!Prussia, Adult!Prussia, Russia, Germany

**Rating: T+**

**Summary: **Re_Born verse. Interlude. "And the rest is silence."

**A/N: **Well, it's...been a long while since I updated this. Sorry about that. I've been a bit busy with real life - and still am, actually - and lost my motivation to right Reborn-verse. I doubt anyone will still remember this story any more but...well I'm going to give it another crack. I'm continuing it here, however AO3's version will be the edited one, where I'll edit and redo the past six chapters since I've improved greatly in writing.

So here, have an interlude piece while I start getting back into the swing of it. I'm sorry again for the very long hiatus!

**TERMINATE**

There was something wrong with this picture, something that he could not press his fingers on – _broken, dislocated and crushed under a large boot_ – even though it was something that he had seen many times. Stain of crimson on grey, and the bitter gagging smell of vodka and rot and – _"spill it out all over the fucking battlefield! I wanna see that Austrian's"_ – blood clogging up in his throat as that pipe, that goddamned _pipe_ clanged near his ear.

"Such a rude glare, East…"

His lips curled back in a snarl, fingers curling as if to – _"throttle him sometimes"_ – but no, the pipe clanged again, body flinching in memory of the metallic sickening crack of it on bones – _splintering, straining, but nothing like those_screams_of his people when they screamedscreamedscreamed_ – and he held his tongue with sharp teeth. He couldn't-

(_"What's wrong, West?" he laughed, even though he could barely breathe past the broken ribs and the shackles bit into his wrists a little too tight, "You look like you got dragged through a fucking bush!"_

"_Bruder, don't-"_)

-lose his head. He was not to be tamed, even when the pipe – _"fuckin' pipe"_ – bruised his skin into mottled purples and blues and splintered bones into shrapnel as that empty rotting bitter cell echoed with his screams – _"I'm sorry, East. Are my people tearing into yours too hard?"_ – but he knew that outright rebellion was not an option, no sneering remarks or, or, or-

(_"Hey, now, don't go bawling. You're gonna be a nation someday," blond locks soft against his calloused palm, "Just a fucking scratch. So no-"_)

-tears, and his thoughts swirled, sickening lurches when cold metal pressed down on the hollow of his throat. Swallow. No movement even when – ah! Screams renewed again, though he couldn't decipher if they were his or his people's when another pressing crush against soft women and fragile children smashed them but still burning with his pride – _"Prussian pride and virtues…though not much virtue, hah!"_ – ah, ah, ah, no matter for the pipe swung down again on his breastbone and heard something _break_.

"You're being very rude," A sigh, and the pipe lifted, then came down in a sharp crack once more. "Very, very rude."

Heart was pounding – _badumbadumbadum, the tattoo of war drums_ – against the fractured bone, blood gurgling in his throat as – _crack_ – again, ahh, again, again, until splotches of white, flickered, bright-

(_-blue eyes blinked up at him as he grinned. "You shall be called…hmm…Ludwig. 'Famous warrior', yeah, nice ring to it! An awesome name for you, little__Germany!"_

"_Ludwig?" Bright eyes widened, awe and gratitude._

"_Yeah, what, hard of hearing already? Hah! And you're barely a year old! The old fogies taken over you so quickly?" Ruffled that blond hair, softness tickling between his fingers, lovely, like, a gold shimmering heaven sliding between his battle worn fingers._

_Something so soft and innocent, about to get warped by battle-_)

Screams were distant noises, just a buzzing echo of something so detached from reality, even when they choked, degrading to gurgled gags over the sickening thudthudthud – _oh dear, another broken rib. My, my, my_– as the bright flashes flashed faster until he was plummeting into nothingness and oh Gott he was burning and dying and all he could see was those bright blue eyes and soft gold hair of heaven and sweet smelling grass as as as as as

"He's going into shock – again, dose him up-"

"Breaking easier now-"

(_The boy nation held out small blue forget-me-nots and he plucked the fragile flowers from the boy's hand, twirling them as the sun caught that golden hair…_

"_You'll be a great nation," He promised, baring his teeth into a feral grin – the only grin he knew – but the boy didn't quail, just smiled wider and held his hand, still flecked with the blood on past battles and sang out in that beautiful childish voice,_

"_Only because Bruder says I will be," that hair truly was heaven, brighter and purer than any gold he saw-_)

"-diac arrest! Too much strain-"

Heart burst out and-

(_"Do you really lo-"_)

He woke up screaming and screaming because the phantom agony was still wracking his body and someone was holding his shoulders and – _itwasthe___ – flailed, trying to claw it away with unbound limbs and renewed desperate vigour and –

"Gilbert!" The voice, familiar and panicked, cut through his terror, and he realised, in a flash of veteran clarity of how he was acting like a fresh faced soldier caught in the corner, a wounded animal lashing out at anything who came within range of curved claws, before it was swept up in the maelstrom of –

Suddenly there was no screaming and he was clutching at soft fabric, his face pressed into the firmness of warm body, as he wailed – long broken and reminiscent of the howls of the wives of those soldiers still rotting in the ground – the remnants of that dreammemorynightmare_hell_ seeping away into the cracks of his brain.

"Gilbert, shhh, Gilbert…it's alright, okay…"

Okay? Yes, nothing was wrong. Okay? Yes, Bruder West was here now. Okay? Y-yes, the monster was gone now. Okay? Y-ye-

Blackness swirled, creeping up on his vision, and he just welcomed it, because the cluttered pictures were jarring, not fitting into their puzzle shapes, and straining against the insides of his skull. He wanted to sleep –_"ever hear the story of the Sleeping King?"_ – just, yes, sleep, in the warmth and low rumble of thunder – _Bruder West voice was like a tiger, a growl_– chasing the last skittering remains of that hell into the corners.

"I'm sorry, Little East. Did I hit too hard?"

And jerked just before sleep claimed him, because that ice cold purr cut through Bruder West's voice, and in his mind flashed the terror of the bitter, rotting smell of the monster with the pipe.

**Fin.**


End file.
